


Isca Silurum - Additional Scenes

by Linane



Series: Isca Silurum [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Historical AU, M/M, ancient rome au, fili and kili are not related
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25512841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linane/pseuds/Linane
Summary: A collection of little ficlets associated with the Isca Silurum Verse.
Relationships: Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Series: Isca Silurum [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1848322
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. "That's Too Far."

Fili appeared out of the greenery like a spectre.

“Anything?”

“There’s a beautiful wild boar at the bottom of the valley to the South, just over that ridge. But too far; can’t get close enough in the open terrain.”

It was almost time for the feast of Litha and the Silures were out for a hunt. The Romans have been invited along as a sign of mutual trust, and because Fili thought that perhaps they could learn a thing or two about respecting the woods, _his woods_ , and the things that lived in them. 

They went in a small party: Kili, Dwalin, two of their best trackers, plus Fili and three of his own men. If it soon developed into a bit of a competition about who could track and kill more prey, surely it was just a bit of healthy rivalry, nothing more.

“ _How_ far?” Kili, who had just walked out of the woods equally empty handed, wanted to know. 

Fili considered. “Must be almost 400 yards.”

“Downwind or upwind?”

“Down. But no man could shoot that far.”

Kili didn’t reply, marching himself to the top of the ridge instead. Fili crossed his arms, but followed, along with the rest of the party.

“Dwalin, my bow.”

“I think it got bent out of shape in transit,” Fili pointed out gently, eyeing the odd, curving design.

Kili ignored him, notched an arrow, drew, took aim –

“Maybe Romans just prefer to shoot children’s bows. I think I had one just like it when I was eight,” Fili muttered in Silurean, causing his men to snicker and cackle. 

Pleased with himself, Fili watched a minute twitch cross Kili’s face. 

And then the arrow sailed and Fili turned very serious very fast. 

Down in the valley below, the boar gave a short, agonised roar, took three shaky steps forward and flopped heavily onto its side. 

“It’s called a Sarmatian bow” Kili calmly explained. “Comes from the East. They like shooting them straight from the horseback, so it needs to be shorter.”

“Do all Romans use these?” Fili thought back to a hot August day, not so long ago.

Kili looked him in the eye. “Only the Auxiliary. There are no archers within the legion itself.” Then he grinned. “But don’t worry; I’ll make you your own,” he announced in Silurean. “Like a good wife.”

Fili snorted. His Roman was coming along nicely.


	2. Nicknames

“ _Oscula Sole._ ”

“Hmm?” 

Fili, still hazy from his sleep and pleasure, slowly transferred his gaze back to Kili from where he’d been watching the sunrise, no doubt willing the sun to sink back under the sea. Like this, his eyes were the most stunning, violet shade, framed by the spun gold of his lashes and the rich, honey colour of his unbraided hair. 

To Kili he’d never been more breathtaking than he was now. 

Moments like these were precious to him. It was so rare that they could truly be alone, but they needed it like they needed air; having found each other, they were now falling in love. 

It was only in moments like these that Fili lost some of his easy swagger and allowed Kili glimpses of his soul: warmth, genuine care, speckles of vulnerability. Not a fearless warrior with obligations, but a man who wanted, loved and felt. 

He was both those things at all times and Kili lusted after one and loved the other in turns.

“Come with me,” Fili had simply demanded, having arrived mid-road-inspection the day before. And then he helped Kili onto the back of his horse and rode off into the sunset, navigating between a legion sworn to protect their leader to the death. 

Back at the camp it was no doubt a kidnapping by now; Dwalin will have sent soldiers after them, and there would be some ruffled feathers to smooth out when they got back.

But for now they had their cave, inaccessible except at low tide, a comfortable cot Fili had prepared, food, wine (mysteriously appeared from Kili’s own cellar) and a small fire to keep them warm. 

“We will see if you want to leave when the sea is out again,” Fili told him, clearly pleased with himself. 

And Kili didn’t. Not now, when he had this magnificent creature loose and wrapped around him, painted in shades never before seen on a mortal, Kili was sure.

Fili was of course oblivious of his own beauty, all of his attention now on his Roman, shifting from a bemused smile to challenging eyes. 

“ _Oscula Sole,_ ” Kili repeated, pressing a lingering kiss to one warm, naked shoulder available to him, feeling the need to stamp his own ownership. 

“ _Sol_... - the sun,” Fili translated into his own language, pointing to the offending apparition in the sky. That part was easy. “ _Oscula_...?”

Kili leaned in to kiss him slowly, sweetly on the lips. It thrilled him, because these were still new. 

“ _Osculum_ ,” he murmured against the chasing, unsatisfied lips. 

_Sun-kissed._

Fili repeated the phrase a few more times, testing it on his tongue. Everything about him was _sun-kissed_ , from a head full of golden hair, through his boldness and the way _Fortuna_ had him for her favourite, to the warmth of his personality, once it was revealed. It fitted.

“Osculum Firiaevandrel,” he made up his own, smug, as he pressed Kili back into their cot for a more familiar, proper kiss. 

_Fili-kissed._

Kili tripped on his true name three times before he got it right, but these were still their early days and he would learn. 

Later, Fili would tell him that he counted his nickname among the most precious things that Kili had ever given to him. 

“Why?” Kili would ask. 

“Because it’s mine forever now. Even if you are killed or I am captured, I only have to look up at the sun and I’ll remember: the name you gave me and that I’m yours.”

He was ever so miffed when the nickname slipped out once among the troops. It didn’t take him long though to make it clear that Kili was the only one ever allowed to use it; his men made a quick study of double shifts and extra-ruthless training sessions. 

Instead, the troops found their own name for Fili: _Leo_.

He came to Kili later, asking what a _Leo_ was, not sure if he should start dishing out further punishments. Kili showed him a mosaic of his name-sake, but it didn’t seem to help much. 

“It looks like a shaggy dog on a bad day,” Fili crossed his arms. 

“It’s actually closer to a cat,” Kili tried. “A really big cat, seen as a symbol of great power and majesty.”

“Hm,” Fili scoffed. “Small cats bring in better prey.”

Kili laughed, but the _legionnaire_ escaped unscathed that time, perhaps because their _legatus_ took to using the new nickname himself, and vowed to one day bring Fili a real lion, so he could see for himself. 

It wasn’t the only nicknames they earned over the years. 

Most of the time, to almost anyone, the two of them were simply ‘Kili’s Barbarian’ and ‘Fili’s Roman’. They didn’t mind; it was simply what they were: each other’s, but of two entirely different worlds. 

And then some days Kili was _Eyebrows_. Usually when someone displeased him or Fili felt like teasing, causing endless mirth where there should have been only respect.

He was _Wifey_ , more often than he would have liked to be, but luckily Fili kept that one to his own mother-tongue, so few of Kili’s men ever realised. 

And sometimes, just sometimes, when they were alone, when Kili had been really good and Fili felt soft, like a freshly churned butter, Kili was _Heartling_. Fili would whisper it, as if it was their own little secret, affection naked and all-consuming in the eyes that wanted only to worship and love. 

_Heartling._

Try as he might, Kili could not repeat the complicated phrase, which only seemed to please Fili more. It was the most delicate thing Kili had ever been called; it humbled him and made him feel giddy all at once. 

Once upon a time, Kili had thought that one day he would be done _falling in love_ , tried to savour it while it lasted. He’d assumed that he’d just _love_ or stop loving and _trust_ instead, and that would be that. 

And then the oddest thing happened: with every half-scandalous nickname, every quick-witted response, every teasing turn of phrase, thinly disguised as linguistic inefficiency, with every steadfast, dependable action and each unashamed expression of affection, Kili kept _falling_. 

The Gods, it seemed, had a sense of humour.


End file.
